


Vancouver Dreaming

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Fiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-22
Updated: 2006-02-22
Packaged: 2018-11-21 01:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11346756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: The weekend doesn't work out as they planned - it is much, much better.





	Vancouver Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for the Vancouver_Dreams list.

  
Author's notes: Written for the Vancouver_Dreams list.  


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Vancouver Dreaming

## Vancouver Dreaming

### by Claire Dobbin

##### [Story Headers]

  


Vancouver Dreaming  
by  
Claire Dobbin 

Ignoring the plush comfort of the Bureau limo, Walter Skinner stared out at Vancouver speeding by and ground his teeth in frustration. This weekend should have been 'theirs'. The promise of it had kept his head above water for the past three months; had made it possible for him to keep playing his part in the dirty little game. He cursed silently and profusely as the precious opportunity to meet, to touch, to become one again slipped further and further away. 

"This is the hotel, sir," the driver said. 

Skinner mumbled a half-hearted thanks as the limo pulled up under the portico of The Sutton Place Hotel. He gathered up his coat and briefcase and stepped out. The hotel's corporate elegance, designed to impress and appear welcoming, served only to send his already low spirits plummeting into outright depression. 

A doorman came forward to take his weekend bag from the driver, then courteously led the way into the gleaming interior. As he stepped out of the February chill into the lobby, a blanket of warmth wrapped itself around Skinner. How different from the little wooden house where they had planned to spend the weekend. He glanced up at the array of global time zones on the wall behind the check-in desk. It showed the time in Washington to be just after two thirty, right around the time when he and Alex would have been hauling the bags and supplies from the jeep up the steep pathway to the cabin. Inside would be cold. It would take several hours for the heat from the single wood burner to permeate every room, but that wouldn't be a problem inside their double sleeping bag, with Alex on him and in him like a ... 

"Your suite is ready, Mr. Skinner. Would you like to go up now?" 

"Ah ... no." Skinner's arousing daydream ended abruptly. "I've ... ah ... some business to take care of in the city. Can you have my bag brought up to the room?" 

"Certainly, sir. Here's your key card." 

Skinner took the card and left the hotel. A quick exchange with the doorman and a five block walk brought him to the Harbour Centre Lookout with its internet caf. Settling down in a booth with a cup of coffee, he logged on and began sending emails to the five email addresses Alex maintained for emergencies and to the account they shared. The messages were bland, just a couple of sentences, stating that Sergei couldn't make the appointment and that he'd be in contact as soon as possible. Once they had been dispatched, Skinner sat back and sipped at his coffee, willing a reply to land in his inbox. 

The morning had begun so well. He'd woken with the sudden awareness that today was the day. Three and a half months of waiting were finally over. He was out of bed and packing the jeep before dawn. When he arrived at the Hoover, determined to deal with the remaining paperwork on his desk, the night shift security detail were still on duty. He got to work immediately. Nothing was going to interfere with his noontime escape to the mountains and the arms of his lover. So it came as a bolt from the blue when, mid-morning, Kim opened the door and told him the Director was on the line. Skinner listened in disbelief as he was ordered to take A.D. Kersh's place at the Vancouver Drugs Policy conference. 

"Isn't there anyone else available, sir?" 

"You're my choice, Walter. Is there a problem?" 

Skinner was silent for a moment or two during which he seriously considered coming clean with the Director. But then he figured that such honesty would mean at least thirty years of hard time before he'd ever see the cabin, or Alex again. 

"No, sir. I had plans, but ... " the words caught in his throat " ... nothing that can't be re-scheduled." 

"The travel papers and conference documentation are with your personal assistant." 

"Thank you, sir." 

And with that the promise of three days uninterrupted Alex disappeared. 

The computer bleeped and a message appeared in the email account he shared with Alex. He leaned forward and read the subject line. 

'Six hours thirty minutes and counting' - it read. 

"Fuck, Alex," he murmured under his breath, "or not, in this particular case." 

He logged off the account and went back to the hotel. He had found the conference documentation heavy going on the plane and had only succeeded in reading through the Bureau provided background material. There was a mountain to climb if he was to get himself up to speed in time for the first plenary session of the conference, so he pulled the two thick folders out of his briefcase and ordered a sandwich from room service. 

Three hours later, the phone rang. It was the concierge calling to inform him that the delegates would be gathering in the Fleuri room in thirty minutes for pre-dinner drinks. Skinner gratefully set aside the papers and headed for the shower. 

"Assistant Director Skinner, Federal Bureau of Investigation," the diplomatic attach said, "may I introduce the Honourable Jim McPherson." 

Skinner reached out to shake hands with the Canadian Minister of the Interior. 

"Thank you for the opportunity to participate, Mr. McPherson," Skinner said. 

"I'll be interested to hear the Bureau 's 'take' on some of the discussion papers," the Minister told him. "There's a lot of 'blue skies' thinking on those pages." 

"So I've been reading. The Director has asked me to take a special interest in those discussions." 

"Let's hope we find them productive. Enjoy the conference, Assistant Director." 

Skinner nodded his thanks and headed for the drinks table. He ordered a Scotch and glanced round the room at the other delegates. One of the faces was familiar and he made his way through the growing throng to where Vancouver's Chief Constable was talking animatedly with two other men. 

"Walter," Stephen Rollins said, smiling. "I didn't know you were attending." 

"Good to see you again, Stephen," Skinner said, shaking the man's hand. "I'm a late substitute. A.D. Kersh had a family emergency." 

"Do you know Robert Yong, Assistant Director Operations Support, CSIS?" 

"We've participated in several cross-border video conferences." Skinner said, offering his hand to his Canadian counterpart. 

The man shook it warmly. 

"And this is Peter Kantz, Canadian Customs and Revenue. Peter's on the steering committee for the conference." 

"Glad to have the Bureau onboard, Assistant Director." 

"We appreciate the invitation," Skinner lied. "You'll forgive me if I'm not fully in tune with some of the issues. I'm involved in inter-departmental policy making, but this isn't my area of expertise." 

"We're here to break new ground, Mr. Skinner. It's going to be a learning curve for us all." 

"You can say that again. Have you read that guy from UCLA's paper on the handing over of treatment funding to local communities ... " 

The three of them began to talk shop. Several minutes later the conference chairman requested that the delegates proceed to the dining room. 

"Hey, Peter, who ordered the Mountie?" Robert Yong asked as they passed by the flash of red that had been registering in Skinner's peripheral vision since he had entered the room. 

Kantz shrugged. 

"Vancouver Tourism, I hope, if the uniform is anything to go by," the police chief commented. "That is not regulation issue." 

A wry smile appeared on his face as his gaze swept from head to foot over the figure standing to attention beside the Canadian flag. 

"That's right, you were RCMP, weren't you, Stephen?" Peter Kantz said. 

"Ten years ... seven of them spent in Nunavut." 

"Jeez, who did you piss off to get that posting?" 

"Some of the best years of my life, Peter. I'd still be there if Maggie hadn't come on the scene," Rollins said with conviction. "Don't knock it `till you try it." 

Peter Kantz gave him an unconvinced look. 

"Hey, be careful. I'm in Customs, remember? That kind of posting isn't beyond the bounds of possibility." 

They laughed at that and waited their turn to view the seating plan for dinner. 

"Is there any chance of moving Walter to my table, Peter?" Rollins asked. He glanced back over his shoulder. 

"Where is Walter?" he asked, searching through the thinning crowd in the ante-room. 

A moment or two later, he spotted him, standing in the middle of the large space, looking slightly dazed. 

"Excuse me," he told his friends. 

Rollins' approach jolted Skinner out of his shocked state. 

"Everything okay?" Rollins asked. 

"Um ... yeah ... I ... um ... just got a message on my pager ... " 

He fumbled in his pants' pocket and took out the device. 

"I ... ah ... need to ...ah ... call the office," he stuttered unconvincingly. Rollins didn't try to hide his scepticism. 

"Sure, Walter," he said. "You go make the call, I'll go in and see if we can shuffle the seating arrangements so you can join us." 

"What?" Skinner asked, his mind somewhere else completely. 

"I'm gonna see if I can get you moved onto my table at din-" "Oh, yeah ... great ... whatever ..." 

Rollins put his hand on Skinner's shoulder. 

"Are you sure everything's okay, Walter?" he asked, concern written all over him. 

"Absolutely," Skinner told him, finally getting a grip on his rational thought processes. "You go ahead, Stephen. I'll be along as quick as I can." 

"Okay, I'll see you shortly." 

He watched the police chief hurry over to enter the dining room just as the big double doors were closed by security. The babble of voices was cut off abruptly and he was left standing alone in the big, empty room except for ... the 'Mountie'. 

But not for long. Three angry strides brought him level, eye to eye, with the red-coated figure. A determined yank on a stand-up serge collar - one that shouldn't have budged the solidly built Mountie, but did - and they were moving swiftly across the carpet towards the men's room. Skinner barrelled them both into the white tiled space and turned back to check the door for a lock. There was none, so he snagged the 'Cleaning in progress' sign and hung it on the outside door handle, then he turned to face 'Constable Krycek'. 

"Have you gone finally, totally insane?" Skinner demanded. 

Alex reached out and caught hold of Skinner's lapel. 

"You look so good, babe," he murmured and pulled him in for a kiss. 

Skinner resisted - for three seconds - then he caught hold of Alex's head and ground his mouth against his lover's. Deep in his throat, Alex groaned and the sensation reverberated all the way down to Skinner's cock. It grew hard instantly and he was relieved to feel Alex's hand release its grip on his lapel and slide downwards towards his crotch. In anticipation of the pleasure to come, he ended the kiss and tilted his head back to look at Alex's face. The sight of it turned the breath rushing into his lungs into a gasp. 

Lust had darkened Alex's eyes to midnight black and the kiss had stained his lips red. In his aroused state the everyday beauty of the man was raised to the power of ten. Skinner felt his control slipping away, along with his good sense. The desire to possess Alex was beginning to override every other consideration in his life - and more and more that felt completely, utterly right. 

"Alex," he murmured before moving in to take the delicious mouth again. 

Alex opened to him willingly and his hand cupped itself firmly round Skinner's sex. Wound up to the point of desperation by months of lonely frustration and overwhelmed by the unexpected, illicit presence of his lover, the dam wall of self-restraint in Walter Skinner broke. He released his hold on Alex, growled his intent and ripped open the buttons on the Mountie jacket. Alex's eyes opened wide in an expression of surprise that soon disappeared when Skinner's hands moved to his fly with the intention of removing his pants in the shortest order possible. 

"Wait!" Alex ordered. 

As the button on his fly popped off with enough force to launch it into orbit, he realised that the situation had moved several light years past the bounds of rationality. There was only one thing for it. Pushing with every ounce of strength he had built up in his one good arm, he manhandled Skinner against the wall. Then, falling to his knees, he used all the dexterity in his one good hand to undo the fastenings on Skinner's pants and free the man's rock hard erection. One second later, his mouth was wrapped round it, doing everything that Skinner loved and needed, while the man himself battled against gravity and the high gloss surface of the tiles to remain on his feet. 

"Uuunnnggh," he moaned too loudly. 

Alex stopped doing the wonderful things he was doing to Skinner's balls and tugged on them in warning. It had the opposite effect and this time Skinner groaned loudly. Reluctantly Alex decided to end it quickly. He released the cock, licked teasingly along the sensitive underside and then sucked hard on the head. In response, Skinner began to thrust and Alex accommodated him by relaxing his throat and taking him in as deeply as he could. On the forth thrust, Skinner came, biting down on his lower lip to contain the cry of release that welled up in him. Alex welcomed his lover's seed and began to swallow. 

The sound of approaching footsteps came as a rude reminder of their vulnerable situation. For a second or two they froze in position listening. From outside there came a disgruntled 'humph', then the sound of footsteps moving away. In the returned silence, Alex took a couple of rolled up tissues from his pants pocket and gently wiped his lover clean, while slowly, blissfully, Skinner slid down the wall to rest in a satisfied heap on the men's room floor. Alex moved to sit beside him, bringing their bodies into contact from shoulder to ankle. 

"Shit, that was good," Skinner murmured. 

Alex grinned at him. 

"I take pride in my work," he said. 

That earned him a scornful quirk of Skinner's eyebrow - which he ignored. 

"Fucking Kersh," he changed the subject. "That bastard better not find himself in the headlights of my car." 

Skinner laughed out loud, then stopped suddenly. 

"You are kidding ... aren`t you?" 

It was Alex's turn to quirk an eyebrow, before grinning broadly. 

"How did you know -?" Skinner began before realising the stupidity of the question. 

"I knew forty-five minutes after you did," Alex told him. "Too late to do anything about it or to contact you." 

"We need to be able to call each other -" 

"No." 

"Not just for times like today," Skinner insisted, "for times when I need to ... " 

He ran out of steam, but they both knew what he meant - 'to warn you, to keep you safe'. Alex smiled at him and leaned over to kiss him tenderly. 

When it ended he said, "Hold me, Walter." 

Skinner pulled him back to lie against his chest and wrapped his arms round him. 

"Cell phones are not possible," Alex said quietly. "They would lead your people to me or my people to you." 

"Whatever you say, babe," Skinner conceded. "Just sometimes ... it would be good to talk ... hear your voice ... " 

"Mmmm ... I know," Alex said, turning into the kiss that Skinner sought. It lasted until Skinner's right hand settled on his groin and began to fondle the half hard cock through the fine wool pants. Alex reached down to still its movement. He drew back from Skinner's mouth. 

"No ... stop," he said. 

"Why?" 

"I want to save this ... to keep me motivated." 

"Huh?" 

Alex turned over so he look into Skinner's face. 

"This isn't enough for me anymore. I've been thinking things through for a while now ... but today really pissed me off ... something has to give ... so I've decided I'm coming in ... I just need another couple of weeks to gather enough collateral to keep me out of jail." 

Skinner didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Instead, he kissed Alex's mouth hard. 

Breaking away, he murmured, "Come in now ... today ... " he kissed Alex's eyes and his nose " ... I can talk to the Director ... the Attorney ... " he kissed Alex's mouth again " ... you know enough about the Project -" 

Alex caught hold of his chin. 

"Whatever part of you is talking, Walter, it isn't your head. If I'm going to cut a deal I need to come in with hard evidence ... the kind that will stand up in court." 

Skinner's face showed exactly what he thought of that idea. 

"Relax," Alex told him, "and remember, babe, I don't have to play by anybody's rules. I'm gonna get through this. Trust me, I won't be taking any unnecessary risks." 

Skinner snorted and tugged on the red serge of the uniform jacket. "And what do you call this?" he asked. 

"I call this one of my favourite fantasies." 

"You are fucking insane." 

"But you love me anyhow." 

The words came rushing out of Alex like the strap line of some other, more wonderful fantasy. Skinner looked at him, the warmth in his heart making its presence felt in his deep, brown eyes. 

"Yeah ... I do." 

"Me too," Alex whispered. "I mean I love you too." 

They kissed again, fiercely and for a long time. Afterwards they held on very tightly. 

"I'm giving you two weeks, Alex," Skinner whispered into his lover's glossy hair, "then I'm coming to get you." 

"Is that a date?" 

"It's a deadline and a threat ... and yeah, it's a date." 

More kisses before Alex pulled away and stood up. "I gotta go." 

"What?" Skinner asked, standing up to join him. 

"I have things to do and this is a good time to do them." 

Skinner began to tidy himself and his clothes. 

"Valentine's weekend?" he questioned. 

"Yeah, even in the Project." 

He stripped off the top half of the Mountie uniform and tossed it to Skinner. 

"By the way, in the fantasy you're the one wearing the uniform and I'm the man you always get." 

Skinner didn't try to hold in the laughter as he folded the jacket and placed it on the counter top. 

"So tell me ... Just how did you get into this secure location?" 

"It was easy, all it took was the uniform ... and a few 'thank you kindlys'." 

Skinner looked unsure. 

"Jeez, Walter, you have got to starting watching something other than ESPN," Alex told him, zipping up the lightweight windcheater he had folded to fit in the leather pouch on the Sam Browne. 

He stepped in front of his even more confused lover. 

"I'm gonna make this quick, Walter. You'll be careful and I'll be careful and I'll see you in two weeks time." 

They hugged briefly and then Alex was gone. Skinner leaned on the sink for a moment, straightened up, checked his appearance and left the washroom. He had missed the first course completely and he got a searching look from Stephen Rollins when he sat down at the dinner table. He gave the man a nod of reassurance and murmured an apology to the other dinner guests. It wasn't easy pretending that nothing momentous had just happened, but he managed it. From here on in, the only way he could help Alex was to dutifully play the role his political masters had assigned him. He would play the role well. The waiting game had begun. 

finis  
19th February, 2006. 

  
 

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Title:   **Vancouver Dreaming**   
Author:  Claire Dobbin   [email/website]   
Details:   **Standalone**  |  **NC-17**  |  **18k**  |  **02/22/06**   
Pairings:  Skinner/Krycek   
Category:  Story   
Summary:  The weekend doesn't work out as they planned - it is much, much better.   
Notes:  Written for the Vancouver_Dreams list.   
  
  
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